


Auld Lang Syne

by ArtemisRayne



Series: May Look at a King - A Newsies Felisian AU [12]
Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Felisian, Canon Era, Cat/Human Hybrids, Felisian!Jack, Felisian!Les, Getting Together, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 07:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18027359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisRayne/pseuds/ArtemisRayne
Summary: Davey Jacobs doesn't know what he was expecting when he walked into Newsies Square that humid summer morning, but it certainly wasn't this.





	Auld Lang Syne

**Author's Note:**

> Um... surprise?
> 
> All dialogue from the musical is intentionally paraphrased. I promise, there's a method to the madness (most of the time.)

Davey Jacobs doesn't know what exactly he was expecting to find while walking into Newsies Square that July morning, but it certainly wasn't _this_.

The open square is bursting with activity, even at this early hour. Dozens of teenagers are milling around, clustered in noisy groups, playing games or roughhousing or loudly teasing. All of them are so _wild_ , entirely unlike the polished boys Davey knows from school; their skin is dirty, and their hair unkempt, and their clothes are worn thin in patches. But even that isn't the part that shocks him the most.

At his side, there's a low, excited chittering. Davey glances down to find his little brother staring at the square with wide-eyed wonder. "Look, Dave," Les breathes, awed. Gazing up at Davey, Les' yellow-green eyes are enormous, the morning sunlight reducing his pupils to pencil-thin black lines. "There's so _many_."

"Yeah," Davey agrees distractedly. As his scrutiny shifts back to the square, he's thunderstruck by the blatant glimpses of fur. Felisians are no secret, despite their relatively small numbers. The thing is, most felisians go out of their way to disguise their features where they can, tails tucked into trousers or under skirts and ears folded beneath hats so that they can blend in better. It's a far-from-perfect system - after all, there's nothing to be done about the vertical pupils or longer than average canine teeth - but it helps them to avoid too much unwanted attention.

Except these boys are making no attempts to hide what they are. There seem to be a disproportionate number of felisians among the newsies, at least a quarter of them that Davey can see. Hats have been modified with large holes to accommodate their ears, and tails protrude from slits cut into the seats of their trousers. The square is a chaos of color, fur in every shade and eyes of every kind flashing in the sun. The whole thing is exotic and indecent and _fascinating_.

Davey shuffles his weight uncertainly, the display making him feel oddly exposed even though he has no reason to be - there's only one felisian in the Jacobs family, and Davey isn't it. Biting his lip, Davey adjusts the over-large bowler hat on Les' head, making sure his ears are covered. Les bares his teeth and bats Davey away with a hiss. "Stop, ya know that don't feel good," his brother complains petulantly, fixing the hat. Davey grimaces apologetically, although he honestly has no spectrum to even _begin_ to understand what it feels like.

A large man with a bushy mustache is hollering for the boys to start collecting papers, and Davey takes Les' hand and falls into line. The newsies jibe with the man and his muscled cronies, clearly all familiar with each other. Davey can't help but shrink slightly when the man's eyes flick to him and a curious look crosses his face. "Well, what do we have here? A new kid?"

"I'm new, too," Les chirps before Davey can stop him, always eager to be involved. Davey sees the older men eye Les appraisingly, and Davey takes a half-step in front of his little brother protectively.

It turns out that being a newsie is nothing like Davey thought, and there are jeering laughs all around him as he stumbles through trying to get their papers to sell. Embarrassed and indignant, Davey hastily grabs the papers from the goon at the booth and scurries off, thumbing through them quickly. He frowns when he reaches the end, sure he must've counted wrong, and tries again, but still-

"I paid for twenty, but you gave me nineteen."

The man sneers derisively at him, arguing back, and then suddenly the papers are snatched from Davey's hands. Davey yelps, but he's caught off guard by one of the goons' comment: "He said beat it, so take your li'l alley stray and get gone." Les growls angrily, and Davey takes another defensive step in front of him, his own mouth open to respond.

"New kid's right," interjects the boy who took Davey's papers. "Gave him nineteen."

Davey finally bothers to look at the boy, and he has to make a conscious effort not to gawk. The boy is probably Davey's age and close to his height, with skin gold from sun and shirtsleeves rolled up to bare muscular forearms. His eyes are a dazzlingly bright amber, and the dark ears that protrude from his hat are tipped in tufts of white guard hairs. The boy casts a glance toward Davey, smirks with his lips quirked up on one side to reveal a single fang, and subtly _winks_.

Davey's stomach turns over.

Head spinning, Davey can barely keep up with the rapid pace of the conversation that follows. They get their twentieth paper, although Davey protests at the charity of the boy - whose name is Jack Kelly, apparently - trying to buy them more papers. Jack is confident and charming, a clever rebuttal to every protest, and the next thing Davey knows, he and Les have a selling partner. 

* * *

As much as he doesn't want to, Davey grudgingly finds that he actually _likes_ Jack Kelly. The boy is rough around the edges and perhaps a little morally gray, but he's funny and charismatic, with an easy nonchalance that makes everything feel less urgent. Davey isn't the greatest at selling, but he's able to settle into it without stressing too terribly about the fact that this is the only way his family eats tonight. And of course, when they make it through the extra fifty papers from Jack, Davey and Les will still be going home with far more coins than they would've on their own.

It doesn't hurt that Les clearly adores Jack, equal parts fascinated by and curious about the older felisian. Jack is good with him, obviously well-accustomed to dealing with younger children, and he does a good job of both encouraging him and reining in his youthful recklessness. It might make Davey's heart jump into his throat, but there's no denying it's effective when Les scrambles up to a woman, sweeping off his hat and letting his ears droop sadly as he guilts her into buying their last paper.

Davey's really going to have to talk to Les about that later; Les is still somehow blissfully ignorant to the fact that not everyone is so sympathetic to felisians.

This only becomes more apparent when they make to part ways for the night. Jack is visibly surprised to discover that they have parents, and Davey doesn't miss the way his amber eyes dart to Les and back up. Davey grimaces in understanding - that explains the surplus of felisian kids among the newsies. Apparently, not all families are as accepting of felisian children as the Jacobs. Davey wonders if that's how Jack wound up here, if his own parents threw him out just for being born with a tail.

Before Davey can even begin to think of a way to ask, Jack's face blanches, ears pulled back in terror, and then they're running. Davey clings to Les' arm and goes where Jack leads as the man in the dark suit chases them through the streets and alleys. Jack never releases his grip on Davey's wrist, and Davey can do nothing but keep moving. The man's shouts ring off the bricks in their wake, an endless, looping cry like a hunting horn.

By the time Jack drags them up a fire escape and through a door, Davey has a stitch in his side. They seem to be on some sort of scaffolding, half in shadow when the door shuts behind them. Davey doubles over, panting with his hands on his knees. When Davey asks who they were running from, he's surprised to see genuine fear cross Jack's face.

"That's the Spider," Jack explains, lips curling up into a feral snarl. His tail lashes almost frantically behind him, the white tip of it a flash in the dark corner where they've hidden. "You stay far 'way from Spider and the Refuge, got me?" And his eyes flick very pointedly to Les before he meets Davey's gaze again.

Davey catches the point; this Refuge place is not friendly to felisians. 

* * *

It's easy to fall into a rhythm of selling with Jack. They divvy up their papers, each of them taking up their own corner, close enough to keep an eye out for trouble but far enough apart that they won't interfere with each other's sales. Jack always sells out first, although there are plenty of days where Les isn't far behind. Davey still hasn't quite gotten the hang of hawking, uncomfortable with spinning the false stories that Jack does and lacking the young and cute factor Les has, but he's getting better.

On top of it all, Davey has a _friend_ now. A friend he gets to spend most of his day with, who's friendly and fun and clever, who makes Davey feel comfortable in a way he's never felt around his classmates from school. (Whose jewel-bright eyes and slanted smirk fill Davey's insides with sparks, although he'll never admit that part out loud.)

So even though he knows it's not the smart move, even though Davey knows logically that the best choice for his family is to turn-tail and find work elsewhere, Davey jumps right up on that soapbox with Jack and launches a strike. It's exhilarating and empowering, the righteous fury that flows through his veins as he looks down at all the hopeful, upturned faces of the other boys. They are going to change things. They are going to show the rich and powerful that they can't change the rules of the game just to benefit themselves. 

They are going to right the wrongs of their world.

The day is busy and exhausting. After spurring the rest of the Lower Manhattan newsies into action, Jack and Davey make the trip across the bridge to meet with the infamous leader of the Brooklyn newsies. Spot Conlon is not what Davey was expecting, a diminutive felisian with one missing ear and a perpetual scowl. His yellow eyes are shrewd and appraising, and he tells them, in no uncertain terms, that he's not getting involved in any fight until he knows they mean business. Jack and Spot shoot barbs between them, but Jack finally accepts the defeat with a fierce promise to hold Spot to his word.

By the time they make it back to the Jacobs' apartment building, it's dark out, and Les is starting to nod. "Go on up, Les," Davey says, gesturing toward the door. "Tell the folks I'll be up in a minute." Waving a sleepy goodbye to Jack, Les disappears into the building. Davey lets out a slow breath and leans against the wall. "So, that could've gone better," he murmurs.

Jack scoffs and props a shoulder on the wall beside Davey. "Spot Conlon don't never make things easy," he says dryly. "Don't matter. Can still do this anyway, don't need Brooklyn so long's the others show." He reaches up and tugs his hat off, fluttering his ears. "Sorry, itches sometimes," the felisian says, a bit self-consciously.

"I've heard," Davey replies, smiling. "Les complains about it a lot." It might not be proper for a fella to be out and about without a hat, but Davey also knows that felisian ears have sensitive hairs that caps tend to rub against, even for the newsies who don't keep them folded under the fabric where it muffles their hearing.

Davey's eyes drift from the tufted ears to the dappled tail swaying in the shadows behind Jack. When they met, Davey'd been almost horrified by the way Jack so blatantly showed his felisian traits; now, he can't imagine Jack hiding his ears and tail the way the rest of the world does. "It's brave of you," Davey admits quietly. Jack's ears perk forward, and he arches an eyebrow. "The way you don't hide your ears and your tail. It's brave to do that, knowing how some people are about it."

The felisian makes a noise of comprehension, tail easing into a slow rhythm. "For kids like me, don't really make a diff'rence," he says, shrugging. "I used ta' tuck 'em, but - I dunno, folks are gonna look down at me anyway for bein' a street kid and bein' poor. What's one more thing, ya know? So why not be comfy if it ain't gonna hurt nothin'?"

Davey thinks of Les and the way his little brother always grumbles about the constricting feeling of his tail trapped in his breeches or the way his hat makes it hard to hear. It's not really fair to make the boy keep part of himself hidden just to fit in, is it? Maybe Davey should talk to his parents about tailoring the boy's breeches...

"Youse thinkin' hard, ain'tcha?" Davey blinks and finds Jack surveying him, pupils blown wide in the gathering darkness. The felisian grins almost knowingly. "You get that look when youse thinkin', all frowning and serious."

"Shut up," Davey says, ears burning. "I just - we're going to do this. We're going to win this."

Jack's smile softens, but his eyes spark. "Damn right we is." Something brushes against Davey's calf, and he looks down to see the whip of a tail sway back. It's only when Davey lifts his gaze again that he realizes just how close he and Jack are standing, only inches of muggy summer air separating them. He can feel when Jack exhales, the heat of it tickling across his chin. Davey could lean forward right now and press his lips to Jack's and-

Davey pushes off the wall and takes a deliberate step back. "I, uh, should go," he stammers nervously, hoping Jack can't see the blush crawling up his neck. "Before the folks worry. And we got a big day tomorrow."

"Fo'sure," Jack agrees, and Davey thinks he must be imagining the flicker of disappointment. Jack rebounds instantly, his trademark cocky smile sliding into place. "See ya in the mornin', Mouth." Davey turns on his heel and tries not to sprint inside, his heart pounding traitorously against his ribs. 

* * *

It takes Davey more than a day to find Jack after the strike goes to Hell.

Of course, he doesn't even know that Jack is missing that first evening, more concerned with getting Les safely home and taking care of him. The young felisian is more startled than anything; Davey spends a long night explaining to Les why the 'mean men' wanted to hurt them. Watching his little brother lose a tiny bit of his faith in humanity hurts far more than the bruises scattered across Davey's body.

It's only when Davey meets back up with the rest of the newsies the next day that he finds out Jack is gone, that he never came back to the lodging last night. Although there are rumors that Jack's hightailed it, Davey knows better. Jack wouldn't just leave. So it takes a little searching, but in the end, Davey isn't surprised to find the felisian hiding out among his paints.

"Couldn't let a pal know you're alive?"

Jack's gaze is hard and narrowed when he looks Davey's way, utterly unmoved by Davey's excitement over the newspaper article. There's something detached about Jack, anger simmering below the surface that doesn't take much prompting to spill over.

"I ain't puttin' those kids in more danger," Jack snarls, and with his ears drawn back and fangs bared, it's enough to make Davey take a small step back. That seems to startle Jack, and the felisian pulls back, his expression cracking slightly. "They took Crutchie to Refuge," he says and his voice catches. "Ya know what they do ta' kids like us in there? Ain't even just Spider or the guards; the other kids'll go after ya for havin' a tail."

"Really?" Davey asks, revolted. It's one thing to think about the bigoted guards bullying the kids, but for other kids in the same situation to do it?

A smirk completely devoid of humor twists Jack's lips. "How ya think Spot Conlon lost that ear?" he says in response. Stepping closer, he takes Davey's hand and presses his tail into his palm. As the sleek fur glides across Davey's fingers, he can feel a series of lumps and scars beneath the fur, a lifetime of old injuries. Davey's stomach knots painfully in horror. "In there, ain't nothing worse ya can be than a cat," Jack sneers. "So call me a coward, but don't ask me to get no more my boys sent there."

"And how does quitting do them any good?" Davey shoots back, rallying. "It's not gonna get Crutchie outta there, and it's not gonna protect any of the boys out here either. You know they're just gonna keep coming after us for daring to fight back in the first place. We can't let them scare us into giving up, not when we're so close to winning."

"Winning?" Jack echoes sarcastically. "You crazy?"

"Can't you see it?" Davey says. "They're scared. If they weren't, they wouldn't have bothered fighting back at all. They called in the cavalry 'cause they know we actually got a chance here. And now, with our story in the papes, everyone's gonna know it."

Jack's eyes bore into Davey like he's searching for the answers to life itself. The moment hangs, long and suspended, between them. Two boys, alone in the dark with the weight of the world on their shoulders and nowhere left to run. "Maybe youse right," Jack admits finally, quiet and uncertain. "A'ready in it; nothin' left to do but keep going."

"We can do this," Davey says resolutely. In a moment of bravery, he reaches out and grabs Jack's wrist. The felisian blinks, surprised, but doesn't pull away. "We'll show 'em. We have to. This is a fight we have to win."

"And if we don't?" Jack asks, equal parts scared and hopeful.

"Then at least the whole damn world's gonna know our story," Davey replies fiercely.

A small smile flickers across the felisian's face. "Youse somethin' else, ya know that?" It's light and playful, like a tease, but there's something more behind Jack's gaze, something that adds weight and makes Davey's heart skip a beat. He realizes they're standing so close again, barely a breath apart. Jack's got no sense of boundaries in general, but even this seems like a bit much. Like more than he'd do with his other friends. Nervous, Davey licks his lips, and his heart flips over when topaz eyes jump to the movement.

It's too much to want; too much to hope. The world's already got enough reasons to hate him, for being poor and being a Jew. But this, the way Jack makes him feel, this could land him in jail.

And for a brief, fleeting moment, Davey doesn't care.

Jack abruptly clears his throat and steps back, his wrist slipping from Davey's grasp. "A'right, then, whaddya say we go show 'em they don't get to make the rules just 'cause they's rich?"

Davey smiles, ignoring the lurch in his chest. They've got bigger things to worry about right now. So Davey spits into his palm and holds out his hand between them. "Newsies forever," he says.

Grinning, Jack copies the gesture. "Newsies forever."

* * *

The noise is incredible, cheers and whoops and applause. Davey's head is reeling as he looks out across the celebrating square full of newsies. It almost doesn't seem real, doesn't feel possible, but they've won. This ragtag army of street kids took on the behemoth and won.

The only word Davey can think of to describe this feeling is _euphoria_.

Through the crowd, he can see Jack, surrounded by celebrating newsies. People are slapping him on the back, laughing and jostling and playing the way they were the first time Davey ever saw them. Then Jack looks up and their eyes meet across the square. Jack's already excited grin turns blinding.

Both of them immediately start elbowing their way through the chaos, slipping between roughhousing newsies as they cross the square and meet in the middle. "We did it," Jack says in greeting, amber eyes bright with joy.

"We did it," Davey agrees, heart racing. As he stares back into Jack's eyes, he feels invincible. They are victorious, on top of the world. There's nothing that they can't do. Jack's tail lashes eagerly and there's something like daring and mischief in his gaze. Davey grins in response; nothing can stop them now.

So Davey seizes the front of Jack's vest and drags the felisian into a searing kiss.

The noise and chaos of the square seem to disappear, Davey's entire world shrinking down to just this point. To just him and Jack and the crackle of electricity between them, a dizzying blend of triumph and passion. The felisian pulls Davey even closer, his grip possessive and his tail coiling loosely along one of Davey's legs. They're pressed so close together now that they're sharing heat, that Davey can feel the low rumble of Jack's ribs, some blend of purr and growl.

"Dave?"

"Jack?" Davey mumbles in response. Except, wait, that shouldn't be possible. How did Jack talk when Davey's made sure to keep his lips thoroughly preoccupied? Davey's world starts to skew, everything slanting into blurred colors, and nothing feels solid anymore.

"C'mon, babe, wake up," Jack's voice says, and it sounds like it's coming from miles away. "Dinner's here."

_What?_

Davey blinks, groaning, and the warm light fades. It's darker now, save for the bluish-white glow of electronics. The only thing that stays the same is Jack, his face hovering just inches from Davey's, eyes soft with affection. "Good nap?" Jack asks playfully, canines glinting.

Bemused, Davey rubs the sleep from his eyes as his brain slowly catches up with reality again. He's stretched out on the sofa in Jack's Manhattan apartment, his broken arm propped on a throw pillow and a fleece Yankees blanket draped over him. Behind Jack, the television is paused, and Davey can hear voices from the kitchen. The two of them only just got back from winter break yesterday, and they're using the last few days before the semester starts up to binge Netflix shows while Davey rests and recovers from the car accident he was in over the holiday.

"Wow, I had the weirdest dream," Davey admits blearily.

"Oh yeah?" Jack asks curiously. Davey moves to sit up, and the felisian's instantly there, supportive hands helping him push through the lingering ache in his muscles. "Good weird or creepy hentai weird?"

Davey rolls his eyes in amusement. "You were there."

Jack's eyebrows lift and he smirks. "Color me intrigued," he says, ears pivoting forward attentively.

"So was Race," Davey adds with a grin, untangling his legs from the blanket. "And Spot."

"Ick, less intrigued," the felisian says. "Also, this is starting to sound like the end of Wizard of Oz..."

Davey laughs, reaching up to flick the tip of Jack's ear. "We were newsboys, and you and me were leading a strike."

The felisian pauses and then he chuckles, glancing over his shoulder at the movie paused on the television. It's only when Davey looks at the title visible at the top of the screen that he remembers what they were watching when he fell asleep: a documentary about the formation of the 1899 newsboys' union. "Boy, you wasn't kidding when you said those pain pills give ya trippy dreams, huh?" Jack teases. "Good thing we wasn't watching a horror movie."

"No kidding," Davey agrees, smirking. He cards his uninjured hand through his hair, attempting to smooth it back down from the sleep-tangled mess it currently is. "You said something about dinner?"

"Ordered Chinese," Jack answers, jerking his head toward the kitchen. "I'll grab ya a plate. Lo mein and Szechuan, right?"

"Yeah, thanks," Davey says. Smiling fondly, he leans back into the sofa cushions and settles his sore arm in his lap. The dream is already starting to filter away the way they always do after you wake up, details smudging into vague impressions. Mostly what he remembers is that simmering electricity between him and Jack, those moments of desperate need. As Davey watches the felisian moving around in the kitchen, he sends up a grateful prayer that they live in a time when he and Jack can actually be together.

A minute later, Jack comes back bearing two plates. He passes one to Davey and unpauses the movie before he takes his usual seat on the sofa beside Davey. "Hey, Dave," the felisian asks after a moment. "That dream of yours, did we win the fight?"

"Yeah, we did," Davey says with a nod.

Jack beams, eyes sparkling playfully. "Fuck yeah we did."

As Davey descends into laughter, he leans his weight more into the felisian's side. Jack's tail is lying warm and soft along the small of Davey's back, and Davey relaxes contentedly. He watches in amusement as Jack stabs awkwardly at a piece of sweet and sour chicken with his chopsticks - (he's determined to master them since Race made fun of him for not knowing.)

Davey loves this man, and he's endlessly grateful that he can tell the whole damn world if he wants.

**Author's Note:**

> Funnily enough, this is actually where this entire series started. When I first conceived the idea of writing a felisian AU, I tried to write it in canon-era. After a couple of drafts, I realized that the world I wanted to build couldn't fit into the restrictions of the era, which is when I made the choice to write it in the modern era. I never really could shake my fascination with the idea, though, so yes, I totally used Davey being doped up as an excuse to straight up "Sherlock Christmas Special" this shit. 
> 
> Thanks for riding along for this entirely self-indulgent addition to an entirely self-indulgent series.


End file.
